


still feel the same around you

by momentofclarity



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (not between Louis and Harry), Best Friends, Body Worship, Coming Out, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Girl Direction, Louis and Harry in their 40s, Pining, Post-Divorce, Secrets, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 10:55:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21355117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momentofclarity/pseuds/momentofclarity
Summary: Twenty-five years is a long time to fall in love with someone, to learn all the ways a person can fit into one's heart. It’s also an awful long time to lie to one of the most important people in your life.The Act My Age Girl Direction AU.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 40
Kudos: 124
Collections: FOUR





	still feel the same around you

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Nic, for being one of my favorite people in the universe always. 
> 
> Thank you KK for running the fest and always being such an inspiration to me. 
> 
> Thank you all the fat bird folk for being so supportive. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who read my fics and show me so much support, love you.
> 
> Hope you enjoy! ❤

A loud yelp comes from the kitchen as the family is seated in the living room, drinking sparkling wine and soda from plastic flutes. They all look out into the hallway just in time to see Harry come rushing in from the kitchen in her slippers, rosy colour high on her cheeks. She makes her way through the throng of her kids, their spouses, and grandkids, chuckling the whole way over to the back of the armchair where Joseph, her son-in-law, sits. There she turns around to lean on the backrest. 

“Don’t fall over and break your hip, you _little—_” Louis finally comes into the room, moving slower due to her slight limp, but waving her arms in front of her as if to move faster.

“I think the hip breaking is in your department, dear,” Harry laughs and Louis throws her an ugly look, doing her best not to trip over the three-year-old playing on the rug. 

“Kids! Tell your Mum she’s being incredibly insensitive,” Louis says and finally manages to get over to the armchair. 

Marina sighs heavily and rolls her eyes, while her step-brother Oliver ignores the request as he pleads, “Mum, please don’t hurt yourself.” 

Louis ignores him, eyes set on her wife as Harry rounds the armchair to get away, laughter bubbling out through her dimples cheeks. 

“You said you’d let me finish the cake in peace! Now it’s all ruined!” Louis points her finger, nearly poking Joseph in the eye in the process. They can all tell she’s trying for intimidating, but as usual when Harry is involved, her lips waver with an unstoppable smile.

“I couldn’t help myself!” Harry’s eyebrows go up as she raises her hands, the look of perfect innocence if it wasn’t for the mischievous glint in her eyes. “My wife is simply too irresistible!”

A loud groan moves through the room, and Louis finally cracks, a cackle of laughter leaving her. “Oh, is that so?”

“ _ Please _ , I’m too young to be exposed to this,” Ivy says and puts her hands over her ears. 

Harry finally gives up on trying to escape her wife’s chase and rounds the chair willingly, yet again ignoring the protests from the room. 

“Yes, all dressed up for me.” She smiles with her head tilted to the side, reaching out to pull Louis in by the waist. 

“Here I was, thinking it was  _ my  _ birthday party.” Louis brings a hand up to put an errand curl back behind Harry’s ear. Despite the white shade and how it’s grown thinner with each year, Harry still stubbornly holds onto her wispy ponytail. Louis adores every last strand of it. 

“You always dress up for me.” Harry looks smug as she says it, a hand sneaking down to give Louis’ behind a quick squeeze.

“ _ Seriously _ !” They’re brought out of their bubble as the protests erupt and they break out in laughter at the looks on their family’s faces. 

The teenagers look slightly appalled, while their well seasoned kids look more exasperated. The only one breaking the trend is five-year-old Luna. 

“They’re in love!” She squeaks and claps her hands, rushing over to her grandmothers. 

Harry and Louis smile down at her, hands combing over her hair. 

“We  _ are _ , the rest of them are just jealous,” Louis stage whispers, loud enough for everyone to hear. 

Marina rolls her eyes again, but this time she can’t help the smile from wavering over her lips also. “I don’t think parents are supposed to say stuff like that about their kids.” 

“When have we  _ ever _ done  _ anything  _ the way we’re supposed to?” Harry asks and pulls Louis over to the sofa. It’s a tight fit with Ivy perched in the corner, but it works when Louis brings her arm up over Harry’s shoulders. 

“Suppose that’s true,” Marina says and stands up, heading towards the kitchen. “I’m assuming that cake won’t make it here by itself?” She raises an eyebrow at her mothers, looking so much like Harry in that moment that it’s almost comical. 

“Oh, um...” Louis says and plants a kiss to Harry’s cheek. “Would you bring it in, love? We need to rest for a bit now.” 

Joseph snorts before heading out after his wife. “I wonder why  _ that _ is.” 

\---

\---

\---

Louis pulls on her robe and heads out into the hallway. Already at the top of the stairs, the smell of freshly baked bread hits her and brings a smile to her lips. Her footfalls are quiet as her socked feet carry her down the stairs and out into the kitchen. 

There at her kitchen table—large enough for a family of four—Harry is perched on one of the chairs. She’s dressed in an oversized jumper and tights, leaning on one leg propped up on the chair in her usual style, as she reads the morning paper. 

She hasn’t yet noticed she’s being watched and Louis takes a moment to appreciate the sight. It’s been three weeks of Harry living here, and Louis tries hard not to get too used to it. She knows deep in her bones that Harry will eventually find her own place, heal enough to be able to go back to the house and pack up her things. Move on with her life as a newly divorced woman, while Louis is still right where she was before Harry came knocking on her door with three massive duffel bags in tow. 

Louis leans against the doorframe and lets the butterflies in her belly reign free for just a few moments. Harry’s ponytail wobbles on top of her head as she turns the page and a bitten down nail scratches distractedly over her bent knee. 

She’s stunning in the morning light, summer tan fading and movements slow. She’s always been beautiful of course, ever since they got to know each other during Harry’s first year of uni. But now at forty three, dark circles and a few lines under her eyes, hair a little frizzy from an old perm and lips chapped from the cold, Louis’ heart races at the look of her. 

She looks so at home in Louis’ kitchen, like she could so easily belong. Like she already does. 

As if her waking up early to put on breakfast on a Saturday morning is habit rather than a rare treat. As if the sight, the smell, the sense of her, all over the house is just the way things are. Always. As they should be. 

Louis lets out a small involuntary sigh, finally alerting Harry of her presence. Harry’s face breaks into a soft dimpled smile, the corner of her eyes still smudged with sleep.

“Morning,” she says, voice deep. “I made some breakfast rolls if you want.” 

“Thanks.” Louis gives her a smile back and moves to pour herself a cuppa. “What are your plans for today?”

Harry stops paying attention to the paper and looks over at her, taking a sip of her tea before answering. “I was thinking maybe we could do something together?”

Louis’ stomach swoops happily at just the thought. “Like what?”

Putting her cup down, Harry leans her cheek against her propped up knee and purses her lips in thought. “You know what I haven’t done since like… 1989?”

Smiling already, Louis sits down at the table and grabs a bread roll. “What?”

“Shopping.” 

Louis snorts at that because Harry is  _ known  _ for her weekly shopping trips. “That is blatantly untrue, but alright.”

Harry rolls her eyes as if Louis is being daft. “No, like,  _ real  _ shopping. Girls shopping, you know trying on some dresses, getting my nails done, all that.” 

“ _ Oh,  _ you mean  _ real  _ shopping, sorry I misunderstood.” Louis is just pulling her leg, because there’s very few things she wouldn’t do for Harry. Ever really, but especially now when she’s living out of three duffel bags and tries to figure out how to sell a house she’s lived in for most of her adult life. 

“Come oooon, we can go to the shopping centre, get some new clothes and then tonight we can go out!” Harry looks at her with wide doe eyes, left dimple dipping deep in her cheek like she already knows Louis will agree. Louis’ chest soars. 

“I’m not getting a manicure, but alright, we can do that.” She’s trying to play it like she’s being generous, when in reality she’d do anything for the way Harry raises her arms in victory and lets out a small “Yey!”

\---

After breakfast they get ready and head out to Harry’s truck. The air of autumn has just taken over after the last dregs of summer, but for once the sky is blue rather than the heavy grey of the past few weeks. As she takes the passenger seat next to her best friend, Louis is yet again grabbed by the feeling that surrounded her this morning. The what-ifs. The slightly surreal feeling of having what she’s wanted for so long, however temporary it might be.

She and Harry have spent a lot of time together over the years, but most of it has been while focusing on something or somebody else. Taking their kids to football games together, trips with their husbands, dinners with the house full of both families. 

Now it’s just the two of them, spending time together just because they can. Because they want to. Because when the foundations of their lives, their families, came crashing down, they were the only ones left. The core of everything.

Harry backs the car out from the driveway with her usual reckless overconfidence, the car sliding onto the street in a big curve. Louis can’t help but glancing over at her, watching the way Harry leans forward and steps on the gas. There are so many questions racing through Louis’ mind, because she wants to know everything that goes on behind those green eyes. 

For someone who’s going through a separation, Harry has been strangely calm about the whole thing. Since that night when she showed up with tear-stained cheeks on Louis’ front porch, she’s seemed very put together. Louis wonders if that’s the whole truth though, or if it’s just Harry’s habit of putting everyone else before herself. 

When they make it out to the motorway, Harry relaxes into the seat, probably happy to be out of city traffic. 

“What are you frowning about?” Harry asks and looks over at Louis with a tilted smile.

“Just wondering how you’re doing,” Louis answers truthfully, always finding it hard to go about things differently with Harry. There have been so many secrets and lies over the years that she picks honesty every time she’s able to.

“I’m going shopping. I’m excited!” 

Louis rolls her eyes, counting on Harry to catch her doing it even if her eyes are back on the road. The smack on her arm a moment later is answer enough.

“I know what you mean,” Harry admits. “I’m alright, okay? I know you worry, but I’m like… surprisingly fine.” She releases a small chuckle.

“I just worry you’re telling yourself to be fine just so people won’t worry, rather than actually being okay.”

“You worry, I worry that people will worry, how perfect!” 

Louis ignores her and continues. “I remember what it was like, you know. Even if it's the right decision, it can be hard.”

Harry sighs. “I know, it’s just. I’m not sad, or even angry. Just very… not confused, but like, who am I even supposed to be now? It’s so freeing, but also overwhelming. I was always just the mum or the wife and now I’m what? The single divorcee? What is she even like?” 

Louis can’t help smiling at Harry throwing those questions out into the universe like she’ll get an answer in return. She remembers them all too well herself. That feeling of floating in space, not knowing in what direction you should go. Trying to find your footing in a world that seems so fundamentally changed. 

For Louis it had felt like everything she had thought about herself, had been torn to pieces over the passing of a few months. Something that had been building since her very first days, something so fundamental to who she is and how she relates to the world, had been desperate to break free. 

“You were always more than ‘just’ a mum or a wife, but yeah, I remember that feeling. What do you do with all that time and space on your hands?”

“Uh huh, turns out I’m going shopping with my best mate, how cliché is that?” Harry laughs self-deprecatingly. “Drowning your existential crises in lipsticks and ruffled skirts.”

Louis snorts. “I guess it’s better than vodka.”

Harry grins and exits the motorway. “No, that’s later tonight.”

\---

They’re in shop number five when Harry finally finds what she’s looking for. Louis has mostly followed her around, giving the thumbs up or a ‘are you sure’ lift of the eyebrow when requested.

“I’ve always wanted one of these,” Harry says, holding up a short black velvet dress. “David always liked me better in flowy things.” She’s holding the dress up against her front, looking up at Louis with a question in her eyes. “Is it too much for someone my age?”

Louis shakes her head. “You should try it on.” 

Harry pulls her into the changing room and suddenly everything feels a little too hot, a little too crowded, as Harry pulls her jumper off, leaving her in only a white bra and tights. The dark moles scattered over her shoulder blades contrast against her skin in the harsh light and Louis absently wishes she could trace them with her finger. She pushes herself into the corner so she won’t brush up against Harry as she bends over to step into the dress. 

“Zip me up, please?” Harry interrupts Louis’ thoughts and she looks up to meet Harry’s eyes in the mirror. She nods and swallows. 

Her fingers tremble slightly as she grasps onto the zip right at the dip of Harry’s spine, breath coming out in hot wet puffs against Harry’s back. When her knuckles accidentally come in contact with Harry’s skin, she almost feels electrified. Her fingers can’t seem to stop trembling.

“There you go,” she says quietly, pulling a fallen curl out from the neckline before looking at Harry in the mirror again. 

Harry turns this way and that, her hands smoothing down her sides and biting her lip in contemplation. Louis thinks that while there was a lot of things she didn’t like about Harry’s ex husband—not wanting to see Harry in something like this must’ve  _ surely _ been one of his most insane ideas. The velvet fabric hugs every inch of Harry’s body, the softness of her hips, the small valley of her breasts. 

“You like it?” Harry asks, voice a bit breathy.

Louis ignores the flush of her cheeks and meets Harry’s eyes. “You look beautiful.” 

\---

A few hours later Harry is mixing them drinks as Louis rinses off the dishes. Louis feels both relaxed and a bit jittery from the day’s events and one generously poured vodka tonic. 

Harry has already done her makeup and is currently dressed in nothing but her underwear and a silk robe, as if Louis didn’t have enough trouble breathing around her when she’s dressed in her rattiest jumpers. Louis herself hasn’t even showered yet, but she looks forward to a moment alone under some cold water. 

“I can finish up here, you go get ready,” Harry says and raises her glass. “Got some good company.”

“Alright, I don’t really know what to wear though, haven’t been out in ages,” Louis grumbles before taking a sip of her drink. 

“You always dress nicely, don’t worry about it.”

Freshly showered, she stands in front of her wardrobe, her stomach twisted up in knots. She pictures Harry in the next room over, putting that lovely dress on, and she can’t help eyeing her black dress shirt — picturing what the two of them would look like dressed up and perfectly matched. Harry’s curls soft around her shoulders complementing Louis’ short crop. 

Her stomach rumbles with equal parts excitement and guilt at the thought. They aren’t two parts of a whole, aren’t two that are supposed to go together seamlessly, and the last thing she wants is for Harry to see right through her. For Harry to take one look at her outfit and ask why she so desperately wants them to match. 

She settles on a white t-shirt with a tan suede vest on top. She’s never been good at dressing up, always hated skirts and dresses, never knew what to do with her hair or what to do with the sparse items of make up she owned. 

At uni Harry always helped her out, could spend hours in their tiny room with multiple toilet bags spread out on their shared desk. Louis would close her eyes, breathe in Harry’s flowery perfume as Harry’s soft hands drew on thick black liner and blue tones to match her eyes. 

\---

“Gosh, Nick Pelozi had  _ such  _ a crush on you, I swear it!” Harry laughs and clasps down on Louis’ arm. “I remember when Danny was about to ask you out, and he kept hesitating because he thought you were going out with Nick!”

Louis’ cheeks heat up against her will, flustered by the topic. “He was quite a pain in the arse, if I remember correctly. Danny clearly had nothing to worry about.”

Harry rolls her eyes and takes another swig of her pint. “Nooo,  _ of course not _ , no one could  _ ever  _ measure up to  _ Danny _ .”

“Why do you say it like that? You  _ do _ know we’ve been divorced for nearly a decade, right?” Louis frowns and lets a smile waver across her lips. Always so many conflicting emotions ranging through her when she’s around Harry.

Harry rolls her eyes  _ again _ and lets out a deep sigh. “I know, it’s just, you two were always so perfect together, right from the start. Me and David were more like… it just felt more forced, you know?”

Louis honestly doesn’t know if she should laugh or cry. It’s true that she and Danny always liked each other, loved each other even, but she’ll never forget the look in his eyes the night he confronted her about her feelings. When after sixteen years of marriage he had realised she’d been in love with someone else all along. 

David and Harry might’ve been a bit of an odd match with his conservative rants and obsession with rugby, but at least they had finally fallen in love. Found something beyond friendship to share as they started a family. 

There are so many things Harry doesn’t know and Louis feels a lump in her throat at that thought. Of all the years after the divorce when she’s looked into Harry’s eyes and told her that she and Danny simply didn’t fit together anymore. 

All these years when she hasn’t been able to tell her best friend the truth. 

Louis takes another sip of her beer to swallow down her train of thought. “It’s just different, you and David obviously made it longer than we did.” 

“Yeah, ‘cause I’m a pushover, that’s why.” Louis can tell Harry is going for a joke, but it ends up sounding painfully self-deprecating. 

“Don’t say that about yourself, everything David did to you was because he’s a manipulative arse, not because there’s anything wrong with you.” Louis tilts her head, forcing Harry to meet her eyes. To see how sincere her words are.

“Maybe you’re right…” Harry shrugs her shoulder, then a second later clearly decides to change the subject. She looks up at Louis with excitement shining in her eyes. “Fuck, do you remember that time we poured dish soap into the city fountain and the others got arrested?!” 

Louis laughs, mostly at Harry’s ability to go from solemn to giddy in mere moments. “ _ I  _ remember alright, but it’s a bloody miracle you do. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you that pissed.”

“Never more hungover either, I think I threw up for two whole days!” Harry laughs like it’s a fond memory, even though it surely wasn’t something to be happy about back then. “Speaking of alcohol, I need another pint or five, you want a refill?” 

“Yeah, thanks,” Louis says and watches Harry move through the crowd. 

She watches as others watch Harry as she walks by, eyes flying up her long legs and looking longingly at the dip of her neckline, and she hates them. She wants to protect Harry from these men who think they can have a piece of her, at the same time as her cheeks burn with shame because she wants the same thing. 

Standing at the bar, no less than four men approach Harry as she’s waiting to get her order. It’s as if they’re standing in a sodding line, waiting for their chance. There are hands running down Harry’s back, one touches her dangling earring and another simply tries to pull Harry in by the waist. 

Louis’ chest grows tight and she clenches her fists against the tabletop. Even if she has promised herself to never ever be with a man again, she hates how other women still have to deal with them. How someone as funny and smart and overwhelmingly  _ a lot _ like Harry, is reduced to nothing but a sweet thing in a tight dress. 

When Harry comes back to the table, her cheeks are flushed and her hair looks a little more frizzy. “I swear to god, maybe I should keep the ring on my finger when we go out.”

“Seems like a good idea actually,” Louis mutters and accepts the pint Harry gives her. 

Harry looks at her for a moment and tilts her head to the side. “What about you?” 

“What about me?” Louis asks, genuinely confused about the question. 

“Maybe it’s weird of me not to think about this before now, but don’t you want to meet someone?” 

The question does hurt a little, because it  _ has  _ been a long time. As much as Louis appreciates the fact that keeping her secrets hasn’t been  _ that hard _ , it hurts that she and Harry haven’t been as close in the past few years. 

The divorce had been the roughest time of Louis’ life, especially because Louis had been forced to rebuild herself up from the ground. She doesn’t know if she deliberately pushed Harry away during the hardest times, or if Harry was simply busy trying to deal with a wanker of a husband and a house full of kids. Probably a bit of both. 

The question also stings because the answer is obvious. Of course she does. Now that she knows what she loves, as she has grown more confident in herself, in her heart and it’s wishes, she wants nothing more than to share it with someone else. 

But that is also awfully hard when you’re stuck in a suburban house by yourself, desperately in love with your best friend. 

“Not really,” she answers, because she really doesn’t want to meet anyone in the sense Harry means. A man. Someone else to get married to and buy new underwear for because he seemingly isn’t grown up enough to do it himself. 

“Nah, me neither,” Harry scrunches up her nose and rests her chin in her hand, elbow propped up on the table. “I know all this is very new, but men really don’t age very well, do they?” She gives a pointed look at the other guests and Louis cracks up, the unsettled feeling in her torso finally easing up.

\---

It’s later, much later, that they stumble into the house, filled to the brim with too many pints and clothes skewed this way and that from hours dancing. Harry was approached several more times during the night, but she always just brushed them off and went back to dancing with Louis — arms raised high and curls let loose. 

“Oh my god, my feet will  _ kill  _ me tomorrow!” Harry kicks off her pumps and drags her thin stockings off, throwing them over her shoulder as she makes it into the kitchen.

“Ungh, mine too, I can’t believe you talked me into dancing for that long. I don’t think I’ve danced at all since uni if I’m honest,” Louis says and leans against the kitchen table, waiting for Harry to be done drinking from the tap so she can get some water herself. 

Harry wipes her chin and grins. “But I’ve had so much fun. Fuck, my kids would  _ kill me  _ if they’d seen me tonight.”

“Good thing they didn’t then,” Louis smiles back and, because she’s not a wildling like Harry, grabs a glass to get some water. 

“I just. I didn’t think I  _ could  _ have fun like this anymore, you know? How sad is that?” 

“Well, we  _ are _ basically middle aged, maybe we’re not supposed to have fun anymore?” Louis counters just for the sake of it and Harry gapes at her, mock offended.

“You shut up!” She smacks Louis’ arm and Louis laughs at her, basking in having Harry’s attention on her like this, the guilt and shame having melted away a few pints ago. 

A loud yawn escapes Louis then and they both laugh. “Guess some sleep would be good.” 

“Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

They make it up the stairs slowly but surely, Louis trailing behind Harry dragging her feet up every step as she sings “Dancing Queen” — “Young and sweet, only forty three-eee-eeee!” and laughs at her own brilliance. 

They reach the top of the stairs eventually and Harry hovers outside the door to the guest room where she’s set up camp for the past few weeks. Louis can’t help the way her heart jumps a little just at the sight of her, cheeks pink and body warm, movements loose and eyes sparkling.

“Honestly, thanks for tonight,” Harry says and reaches out to pull at Louis’ vest, making Louis stumble a few steps closer. 

“My pleasure,” Louis says, steadying herself with a hand on Harry’s hip, the velvet soft underneath the tips of her fingers. “I’ve had fun.”

“Yeah, me too. I think I really needed this, just a girls night out. Nothing to worry about.” She thumbs at the golden button of Louis’ vest and Louis looks down to follow the motion. 

“I’m…” Louis voice is suddenly a little shaky, her heart beating heavily against her ribcage, mere centimeters from Harry’s fingers. “I’m glad you had a good time, you really deserve it.”

“Thanks,” Harry says and nudges a knuckle against Louis belly, urging her to look up and meet her eyes. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

As their eyes meet, a surge of electricity vibrates between them, making them both waver forward just slightly.

“Bright and early,” Louis says, voice raspy from too many cigarettes and Harry’s breath on her cheek.

Then there’s a soft press of lips against hers, plush and wet, a bottom lip slipping in between her lips as if to get just a bit closer. Louis’ hand comes up to brush against Harry’s cheek, to feel that heated skin against her palm and Harry lets out the tiniest of whimpers.

“Good night, Lou.”

“Good night, Harry.”

With those words they slowly pull away, fingers grazing against each other one final time before Louis is on her way down the hall. She can’t be bothered to brush her teeth or get undressed before she falls down on the bed, a smile pressing into her pillow. 

\---

The first thing she notices is the heavy throb behind her eyes, followed by the dry sticky feeling of her tongue against her palate. She lies still for a moment, trying to map out all the ways her body hurts. The way she’s clearly been lying on top of her arm all night so it’s numb, and how something rolls slowly in the bottom of her belly. The fact that she really needs to pee, so moving should be her next priority. 

Her non-numb hand comes up to rub over her face, as if waking up the dead tissue. When her little finger rubs against the corner of her mouth—that’s when she remembers. 

Her heart starts racing before her mind has caught up. The feeling of wet lips, of something so soft pressed against her skin—the scent of Harry’s dewy skin so close she got dizzy. 

“Oh no.” 

Her body keeps reacting ahead of where her mind is currently stumbling forward. She knows something bad happened, something stupid and reckless, but the throbbing against her skull makes her unable to fully process the information.

So. They kissed. Or she kissed Harry more likely. She got too eager, too greedy and Harry was so close, so breathtaking right at the tip of her fingers…

She rubs her knuckles against her eyes, temporarily easing the pain as she slowly gets up and drags her feet towards the bathroom. Anxiety has started reaching its hungry claws up from the pit of her stomach, spreading through her chest and up her throat. Her fingers tremble as she turns on the tap to get some water into her system, anything to clear the heavy cloud of her mind. The water feels good, like relief against her tongue and she quickly decides to take a shower, letting the water wash over her and clear her head. 

By the time she’s rinsed off and reaches for a towel, the most vicious scratches of worry against her insides have been subdued. She has a plan.

The first step is to get some food in her belly, because she knows she’ll be sick in a while if she doesn’t. Second step is to forget last night happened at all and to act has if everything is perfectly normal because… well. Two friends kissing in the AM, sloppy and drunk and exhausted,  _ isn’t _ that big of a deal right? She’s pretty sure Harry has kissed her before, a quick peck on her birthday or in celebration of a pub quiz won, so this  _ shouldn’t _ make her insides throb with longing. 

What  _ should be _ and  _ is _ , are apparently two very different things though. 

Louis puts on some tracksuit trousers and a soft cotton jumper, feeling as if her skin would be scratched raw if she put on something harsher. Downstairs, she brews some tea and puts bread in the toaster, while wondering why on earth they didn’t stack up on soda the day before. It’s probably just been too long since either of them went out, so the routine of a planned hangover is long forgotten. 

She’s idly flipping through the newspaper when she hears the thud of socked footsteps coming down the stairs and she determinedly keeps nibbling at her toast and reading over the headlines. 

Nothing strange is happening here. Harry has probably forgotten about it all together. Nothing to worry about. She’s just sitting here, having breakfast and reading the news like any other Sunday morning. 

“Morning,” Harry grumbles as she enters the kitchen, her silk robe hanging off her shoulders over a pale grey t-shirt and pyjama bottoms. 

“Morning!” Louis says, failing miserably at sounding normal but trying to ignore it. They just need to get through this breakfast and then everything will feel all right again. 

Harry sits down opposite her and puts some butter on a piece of toast. She carefully spreads the butter out so it covers the whole surface, and then looks up at Louis with big meaningful eyes. 

Louis nearly chokes on her tea.

“So… we kissed last night.”

It hangs there in the air, impossible and painful, awful, gnarly and too much for Louis to deal with. “I’m sorry,” she says and can’t stop her eyes from dropping down, staring a hole into the table. 

“For what?” For some reason Harry sounds annoyed, and Louis can perfectly picture the line between her furrowed brows. She doesn’t dare to look up though.

“I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry I—”

“You hardly  _ forced _ me to do anything, why are you apologising?” Harry interrupts, prompting Louis to look up and finally meet her eyes. 

Her face is a bit puffy from sleep, hair pulled up in a messy ponytail. Louis wants to cry she’s so beautiful. Why is she so beautiful when Louis is trying to apologise for thinking so in the first place?

“I just… I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything, I’m…” She really doesn’t know what to say, just tries her best not to burst right out of her own skin. Not to fall down to her knees and explain why it’s all her fault. That maybe she’s been wanting, waiting for too long and now it’s crawling out of her. 

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” Harry says, now softer, as if she can tell how painful this is for Louis. “If anything, I’m struggling to… I just don’t know what it means.” 

She looks up at Louis through her lashes, head bowed down and cheeks suddenly blossoming the most lovely of pinks. 

“I don’t know either,” Louis rasps out, lying through her teeth. If there’s anything she  _ does  _ know these days, it’s this. 

All the ways she wants and loves Harry Styles. 

\---

They spend the rest of the day lazing around on the sofa, watching reruns of the past week’s tv-series and ordering pizza. Despite being snuggled up on the sofa under a duvet, Louis’ skin can’t seem to stop tingling, small shivers leaving her covered in goosebumps. 

It’s something about the way Harry keeps looking over at her, eyes serious and gentle, like she’s trying to figure something out. And no matter which way she turns Harry seems to find a way to touch her. Toes tucked under Louis’ thigh, their knees pressed together, a curly head on her shoulder. 

At one point Harry’s fingers slowly travel up the length of Louis’ forearm and Louis feels like she’s dreaming. She doesn’t know if Harry is doing it deliberately or if it’s something subconscious, and she can’t figure out which is worse. 

\---

On Tuesday Louis has made it through a stressful day at work followed by an hour and a half of football practice, before she gets to drive herself home. She thinks about the pasta she’s going to heat up for her and Harry and how they can spend the rest of the evening in front of the TV. The drive home from practice is short enough that the heat in her car doesn’t have time to kick in, and the wet tips of her newly showered hair against her neck makes her shiver. 

“Hello?” She calls as she kicks off her shoes and leaves her shoulder bag on the floor to be unpacked after putting the food in the oven. 

“Hi.” 

Louis looks up to see Harry staring at her intently, already redressed from work in tights and a large jumper. The hallway feels small when they’re standing there, like there’s not enough room to breathe properly as Harry is leans against the bannister, looking for all the world like she’s got something on her mind. 

“What’s up?” Louis asks, pulling her damp hair back from her forehead. 

“Just…  _ damn it, _ ” Harry lets out a whine and then she’s moving. 

One moment they are meters apart and then there’s nothing. Nothing between them as Harry crashes into her, those lips she’s always dreamed of harshly pressed against hers again and Louis stumbles backwards at the impact. 

Harry’s fingers dig into her shoulders, keeping her from from falling. Keeping them pressed together and Louis’ heart is throwing itself against her ribcage.

“Is this, fuck, is this alright?” Harry breathes out against Louis’ lips, eyes darting back and forth between Louis’ and Louis finally gathers herself enough to know that this is the moment she’s been waiting for. 

Instead of answering with words, she raises her hands to push into Harry’s hair, and leans in to bring their lips back together. This time with less impact, but the urgency hasn’t left. 

Louis’ body feels like it’s been asleep for decades and has just been abruptly woken. Her knees go weak, goosebumps spread out from the back of her neck and her stomach flutters uproariously. Harry’s tongue pushes into her mouth and Louis tastes her properly for the first time. 

Something in her chest unleashes, cracks wide open, and she tries to pour it all into the kiss. 

Harry’s hands are on her, all over her, running down her back and up her arms, one hand running into the buzzed hair at the nape of her neck. Louis doesn’t know what to do, where to put her hands, if to kiss down the length of Harry’s throat or if breaking the kiss will be the worst decision of her life. 

Then Harry’s hips stutter against hers and something desperate grabs hold of her. She steps forward, pushing Harry up against the wall so she can get some leverage. So they can  _ move  _ without falling over. 

Louis’ hand comes up to Harry’s cheek, the skin burning in the best of ways, and she thumbs against the swollen pillow of Harry’s bottom lip. She’s about to say something, about to ask permission, ask for  _ something,  _ when Harry determinedly pulls her closer with her hands spanned out at the dip of Louis’ back. 

“Please,” is all she says and Louis thinks  _ anything, anything you’d ever want. _

She kisses her instead of pouring her heart out, though it might as well be the same thing, and she finally dares to put her hands on Harry’s body. Feeling out the shape of her waist, trembling hands carefully caressing the small swell at the bottom of her breasts. 

Harry’s body responds to her touch like a magnet pulling toward its counterpart. Her hips and chest pushing against Louis, encouraging her to be bolder, to slowly slide a hand up over Harry’s breast and feeling the stutter of Harry’s breath.

“Oh god,” Harry breathes out again and she’s  _ vibrating _ . 

Louis wants to give her everything, wants her to feel as good as she possibly can, and she drags her hand down to dip underneath Harry’s jumper, skin against skin until Harry’s naked breast is in her hand, nipple large and tight against Louis’ palm. 

Harry’s mouth hangs open, lips wet, and she breathes heavily. Her crotch pressing against Louis’ thigh as she looks at Louis with heavy eyes. 

_ God, _ Louis wants to touch her, wants to kiss every inch of her skin, wants those tits in her mouth, that skin to pebble underneath her tongue. But she’s even more eager to get Harry off, to feed the hunger in Harry’s eyes, encourage the desperate sounds escaping her. 

Harry pulls at her, fingers curling in the fabric of Louis’ shirt, kissing Louis more eagerly with each moment that passes. As she keeps one hand caressing over Harry’s chest, the other trails down to her thighs, feeling the heat of Harry’s want through the worn out fabric. At first she just grazes her knuckles up the inside of Harry’s thigh, the muscles there quivering in anticipation. 

Harry’s kisses keep distracting her, leaving her so breathless she can’t  _ think _ , so she gives herself a moment to catch her breath by kissing down the length of Harry’s throat. So she can run her fingers along the seam trailing down between Harry’s legs, until she’s cupping the heat of her cunt in her hand. 

“Oh god, oh fuck, oh god,” Harry breathes out and pulls harshly at Louis’ hair until they’re kissing again, and Louis hungrily pushes her palm down where Harry spreads her thighs. Goosebumps break out beneath the fingers carefully pinching Harry’s nipple and Harry’s throws her head back against the wall. 

Louis is going mad with how responsive she is, how she seems just as desperate as Louis is, and it’s the most thrilling realisation of Louis’ life.

She smooths her lips against the curve of Harry’s neck and brings her hand up to the waistband of Harry’s tights, only waiting there for a moment, giving Harry a chance to protest before pushing down carefully. 

Her hand reaches down into Harry’s knickers and is soon met by soft-coarse hair, just the thought of touching Harry’s  _ pubes _ enough to make Louis throb between her own thighs. Pushing her nose into the curve beneath Harry’s jawbone, her fingers slide down further and as they dip into hot impossible wetness, tears burn in Louis’ eyes. She’s never touched another woman before, not like this. Intimately and life altering. 

Somehow, she couldn’t in her wildest dreams imagine that Harry would want her this much, would be so wet and swollen that Louis’ fingers slip against her. She’s moaning at the sensation and Harry responds by letting out a small sob. 

“Fuckfuckfuck, I’m—” Harry stops herself and then proceeds to just thrust against Louis’ fingers. 

“Wanna make you come.” 

The words are out of her mouth before she knows what she’s doing. She could happily let her fingers caress along the slick slide of Harry’s cunt lips till the end of her days, but she wants so badly to give Harry  _ everything. _

Harry’s grip on her hair tightens and she brings Louis forward, holding her close as Louis’ fingers find the swollen nub of her clit. Louis parts her fingers and slides them snuggly on either side of Harry’s clit, making her hips stutter. 

“Oh god, that feels good... so so good,” Harry rambles and Louis breaths hotly against her throat, feeling like she’s flying and suffocating all at the same time. 

She can’t comprehend being so fully surrounded by Harry, by her scent, her touch, her wetness, the wet press of her knickers against the back of her hand. She thumbs over Harry’s nipple and gently bites down where her shoulder meets her neck and Harry crumbles. 

Dizzy with Harry and the feeling of utter elation, Louis does her best to keep up the up and down rub of her fingers, resisting the urge to slide further down, to bury herself completely in Harry’s heat, because right now she can feel Harry’s thighs trembling, her clit  _ throbbing _ as Louis is making her come and she’s never felt something so divine in her life. 

Harry comes with her whole body, throat bared, legs shaking and chest heaving, letting out a long groan. When her hips finally relax, falling back against the wall, Louis’ fingers slide down between the lips of her cunt just for a moment, mouth watering at how absolutely soaked she is. 

As she pulls her hand out from Harry’s tights, and her other hand carefully slides down to rest against Harry’s waist, her nerves slowly pick up again. She has no idea what to do now, sticky with Harry and heart blown wide open. But Harry doesn’t let go of her, keeps her pressed in close as she kisses against Louis temple and drags her fingers through her hair. 

Louis wipes her hand off on her trousers before daring to carefully caress down Harry’s side on top of her jumper. When Harry doesn’t push her away, she slowly looks up to meet Harry’s eyes, and what she finds is perhaps the last thing she expected. 

Harry’s eyes are sparkling.

“I don’t know what’s happening, but  _ that  _ was amazing,” Harry says and the twitch of her smile makes the endorphins raging in Louis explode into laughter. 

“Oh my god,” is all she gets out before Harry also bursts into a giggling mess, leaning against her as they catch their breaths. 

In that moment there is no room for all of Louis’ self doubt, as every last cell of her body revels in her love for Harry.

\---

The rest of the night is spent on the sofa, exchanging small smiles and gentle touches in between bites of pasta and distracted looks thrown in the direction of the TV. Louis’ belly won’t calm down, the flutter of butterflies a near constant as she tries to shut down the worrying thoughts at the back of her head. 

A few days ago she was settled on unrequited pining, of knowing that she’ll never get what her heart so greatly desires. But even if  _ this _ isn’t  _ that, _ it’s  _ something.  _ It’s Harry looking at her with warm eyes. Harry’s touch and Harry clearly not regretting, not yet at least, having Louis’ hands all over her. 

Later, Louis stares at herself in the mirror as she brushes her teeth, trying to understand the concept of her lips having touched Harry’s. Of the skin on her throat having traces of Harry all over it. That her hands have brought Harry pleasure, have felt her hungry and swollen wet. 

She doesn’t know how she’ll ever fall asleep tonight, how her brain will be able to shut off this state of utter disbelief. All the while, a spark travels along with her blood cells, spreading out to the tips of her fingers and back of her knees. Tingling and nerve wracking. 

As she’s making it back through the bedroom, Louis has finally managed to make her fingers stop trembling. Trying to keep up the deep calming breaths she had to start when the thought of Harry’s soft skin hit her. 

She sits down on the bed and reaches for the bedside lamp just as the sound of her bedroom door sliding open makes her heart jump up into her throat.

“Hey,” Harry says, now dressed in that darn silk robe tied loosely around her waist. Like a mirage, appearing in front of Louis who hasn’t had a sip of water in her life. 

“Hi,” Louis answers and tries to hide how nervous she suddenly is. “Everything alright? You need anything?”

Harry leans against the doorframe, and Louis thinks she can spot some colour on her lovely cheeks. “Um, maybe.” She’s playing with the string holding her robe together and Louis swallows to keep anything stupid from jumping out of her mouth. 

She lets out a small laugh like Harry is funny rather than extremely nerve inducing. “Well, you just let me know then.”

“I just thought, if… I know this is weird, but. If I’m gonna be in bed thinking about this, about you, the whole night. I was thinking, maybe, I could just as well. Be in bed with you.” The words are rushed, something that Harry rarely manages, and fondness blooma in Louis’ chest. Maybe Harry is a bit nervous too. 

“Oh, sure,” she says before she realises she’s agreeing to Harry  _ spending the night in her bed _ and her ears burn suddenly. She hasn’t changed her sheets since last week and she doesn’t know if Harry will mind. If Harry—

Harry makes her way over to the other side of the bed with a smile on her lips, quickly untying the robe to reveal her strappy nightgown underneath. Louis goes a little lightheaded as Harry lifts the covers and lies down, turning so she’s on her side facing Louis. She looks up at Louis who’s currently stuck in place, feeling like getting into bed with Harry is even more daunting than what they did earlier, pressed together so closely. 

Slowly she gets under the covers, very aware of how she’s dressed only in knickers and a worn out t-shirt. How much skin will be close to so much of Harry’s. Her heart starts racing again and no deep breaths would be able to stop it as she lies down next to Harry, mirroring her position. 

They spend a few moments just looking into each others eyes, Louis mostly because she has no idea what she’s supposed to say. What she  _ can _ say. What would be proper, or allowed, in this new world. 

Harry reaches for her hand and tangles their fingers together on top of the covers, giving them both something else to focus their eyes on. 

“Will you tell me if I’m being too forward or something?” Harry’s voice comes out in a raspy whisper and Louis scrambles to make sense of the words. 

Everything seems turned around, upside down. 

“You’re not.” She hopes she doesn’t sound too desperate. 

“It’s just. I’ve held myself back for so long, and I promised myself that once I left David, I’d just let myself… go with things? And I… I don’t know what this is, but. It feels good, doesn’t it?” Harry looks at her, waiting for an answer as if there could be more than one.

“It does.” There’s a rushing sound in Louis’ ears, like she’s submerged in water now.

“So maybe we should just go for it, you know? Like. Just to see what it’s like.” Harry shrugs her bare shoulder, Louis’ eyes getting caught on the tiny mole right on her collarbone. 

Louis doesn’t know what she’s agreeing to, but knows she’ll agree either way. What Harry is suggesting feels so fleeting, so terrifying and world crumbling, but in the best of ways.

“Alright,” she says, and gets a smile in return. 

“Alright.” Harry gives their joined hands a small nudge with her nose before turning around, pulling Louis’ arm with her. “Will you hold me?”

Louis eyes burn with how much she’s never wanted anything more. “Sure.” 

They settle down, Louis all along Harry’s back, curling around her taller frame, hand carefully placed on her chest, well above the curve of her breasts. She might be forty five, but she definitely feels like a teenager now. Like she’s doing something forbidden, something secret, under the covers at a girls night sleepover. 

Her body is thrumming with heat and want. Want that is emanating from her heart, from her loveliest dreams and deepest wishes. She presses her nose into the back of Harry’s curls, breathing her in as her eyes fall shut.

\---

She’s been staring out of the kitchen window for an unknown amount of time, thoughts floating and hand still inside the coffee tin, when Harry comes up behind her. Arms circling her waist, hands resting on her belly as Harry brushes her lips up the side of Louis’ neck.

“Morning,” Harry says and the deep rasp of her voice send shivers down Louis’ spine along with the goosebumps breaking out all along her front, nipples drawing tight, and Louis leans back just slightly, letting herself revel in the feeling. 

“Morning.” Her voice comes out breathless. 

“Confession?” Harry whispers against the shell of her ear as one of her hands travel over Louis’ hip.

“What?” 

“I just got really turned on, by you just standing here with your arse out.”

Louis’ flushes deeply, can feel the burn all down the front of her chest. “What?” 

She’s not known for being particularly wordy this early in the morning, and Harry on her like this make words seem close to impossible. 

“I mean, how do you look this good, in just knickers and a t-shirt?” Harry’s hand travels from Louis’ hip and slowly her fingers graze over the naked skin of Louis’ arse cheek. Louis can’t grasp how her arse could possibly look good with a pair of cotton knickers riding up her crack, but apparently Harry is of a different opinion. 

Louis has to stop herself from moaning when the palm of Harry’s hand flattens against her, grabbing Louis’ arse eagerly. “Don’t know that I do,” Louis gets out, bracing her hands against the counter top so her knees don’t give out when Harry goes back to kissing her neck. 

Her hand not holding onto Louis’ arse slides up under Louis’ shirt, fingers spreading out against her stomach. Everything is so warm, everywhere their skin touches, where Harry’s tongue tastes her skin.

“You  _ do _ , I… I can’t believe I didn’t notice before, I mean… you’ve always looked  _ good _ , obviously, but it’s like I’m… oh  _ god _ ,” Harry lets out a shaky laugh, suddenly stepping away, allowing cold air to fill the space between them. 

Louis turns to look at her, the deep flush of her face and the embarrassment in her eyes. The way her dimple still dips with amusement. 

“Sorry, I don’t know what I’m doing.” Her long fingers come up to scratch at her neck, rubbing at the flushed skin.

“It’s…” Louis takes a shaky breath to regain her barings. “It’s alright, it’s… I don’t mind.” She’d snort at the understatement if she wasn’t busy staying upright. 

She can tell Harry is feeling insecure, watches the way she hovers in place and turns her eyes to the floor, so she forces herself to move closer. To bring a hand up to Harry’s cheek and kiss her softly on the lips. 

The world doesn’t dissolve into another dream sequence and Harry doesn’t protest, just looks at her with big morning smudged eyes.

“I mean it, there’s… there’s nothing you could do—” Louis interrupts herself, not knowing how much she should let out from the cracks in her chest. “Like you said, if it feels good—it feels good, right?”

Harry nods, smile twitching at the corner of her mouth. “This is bonkers, though.”

Louis smiles, her thumb dipping into Harry’s dimple the way she’s always wanted to. “Bonkers, but quite alright.” 

There’s that understatement again, but Harry leans down to kiss her, so she thinks understatements are just fine for now. 

\---

She’s distracted, to say the least. Patients having to repeat their questions and Louis heads in the wrong direction more than once, as she tries to get through the day with the memory of Harry’s taste on her tongue. One of her colleagues even asks her if she’s getting ill and Louis laughs so loudly an elderly couple gives her a mean look. 

She’s not getting ill, she’s really better than she’s ever been, but it’s all so hard to wrap her head around. How quickly things have happened in just a few short days. How last night was the first time she kissed Harry, and now they’re seemingly doing goodbye kisses by the front door before work. 

Seemingly they’re also doing kisses to say hi as they get home. Louis enters the kitchen where Harry has already started on dinner, and as her hand hovers over Harry’s lower back, unsure if touching is still on the table, Harry turns to her and gives her a peck at the corner of the mouth. 

Louis’ stomach quickly dissolve into a flurry of flutters.

“Hi, how was your day?” Harry asks and returns to the salad. 

“Good, a bit…”  _ Impossible to remember because all I thought about was you.  _ “Much, but alright. You?”

She heads to the fridge to take out a bottle of water to distract herself from how heartbreakingly domestic this all is. Like they’ve been doing this for years. Sharing a home, sharing intimacy and talks about their days. It’s all too much to think about.

“It was good, couldn’t wait to come home though,” Harry says as if to twist the sweet blade tucked right into Louis’ sternum. 

“Yeah,” is all Louis says, simultaneously agreeing and wanting the subject to drop. 

Luckily the topics of conversation stay safe all throughout dinner. Harry talks about her daughter traveling to Spain and Louis tells Harry about the new nurse who always wears scrubs with cartoons on them. 

It’s not until later when they’re cuddled up on the sofa, Harry laying half on top of Louis and drawing lazy figures over Louis’ ribcage as they watch the news, that the mood changes again. The focus switching back to this  _ something _ happening between them, and Louis hopes Harry can’t pick up on the way her heart starts racing in an instant. 

“I just can’t believe how…” Harry shakes her head and Louis looks down at her, fingers coming up to comb through Harry’s hair. 

“What?”

“It’s stupid, just…” Harry’s fingers stop moving and she clutches slightly at the fabric of Louis’ jumper instead. “I’ve felt sexier in the past day than I can remember ever feeling.” 

For some reason that was the last thing she expected to escape from Harry’s lips. 

“Okay…” She doesn’t really know what to say, doesn’t want to assume anything about why Harry feels that way or… 

“It’s just…” Harry puts an elbow down on the sofa cushion and raises her head up to look at Louis. “I know I’m not exactly  _ ugly, _ but I never felt  _ sexy  _ before. Always felt like I was… trying to be, but it just felt awkward? But with you it’s like. Even last night, just going to bed with you I felt so… desired? And it’s… I thought that didn’t…” Her eyes drop down and she rubs her cheek against her shoulder before continuing. “Like, I’m past my prime, right? I mean,  _ forty _ - _ three _ .”

Louis head swims a little with everything there is to unpack in Harry’s words, and she tries to sort out where to start. She raises a hand up to stop Harry from rambling on, silently asking for a moment to collect her thoughts. 

“Okay, um, first of all—that’s  _ ridiculous _ Harry, you’re stunning, what does age have to do with anything?” _ _

Harry chews on her bottom lip for a moment. “Men always throw looks at younger women, you know that.”

A bubble of anger breaks in Louis’ chest, her contempt towards men and all the ways they let their opinions affect the lives of women boiling over. “Well fuck them,” she says and brushes her knuckles over Harry’s cheek. “Your looks are hardly the best or important part about you, but you really are  _ so  _ beautiful.” 

She can hardly believe the confession slipping from her lips, but in this moment reassuring Harry feels more important than covering up her own embarrassing feelings. 

Harry smiles. “See? It’s what I’m saying, you make me feel so… wanted. Flappy skin, and scars and all.”

_ God,  _ Louis could really spend hours taking apart the way Harry’s words are jarring, but for now she can think of another way to show her just how  _ off  _ she is. 

She shuffles out from underneath Harry, pushing at her shoulders until Harry is lying on her back beneath her. With a final swipe of her thumb over Harry’s cheek, she keeps her eyes locked on Harry’s as she slides down to kneel between Harry’s spread legs. 

Her whole body is trembling, just seeing Harry in front of her like this, but she takes a deep breath to keep focus. This isn’t really about her. Not right now. 

Slowly she reaches up to pull Harry’s jumper up to expose her stomach, something warm swelling in her chest at the sight. The c-section scar running down from her belly button and the soft crinkled skin of stretch marks framing it. Louis leans forward and presses light kisses all along the since long healed scar, nosing into the soft skin and breathing in. 

“You’re so beautiful, darling, all of you. So perfect,” she whispers, nearly hoping Harry won’t hear her. 

Harry’s ribcage stutters a little with her breathing, but Louis doesn’t dare to look up at her now, feeling so utterly exposed even though Harry is the one being stared at.

Her hands come up to caress up over Harry’s sides, thumbs lovingly stroking her skin, as she kisses up to right beneath Harry’s breasts. She can feel herself getting more turned on with each kiss, how even though she wanted this moment to be sweet, there’s something sparkling between them. 

She feels it in the way Harry’s fingers dig into her shoulders, the way Harry’s hips shift slightly against Louis as she moves up. When Louis is about to push her shirt up over her tits, Harry sits up quickly and pulls it off. She’s wearing nothing underneath and Louis licks her lips as Harry lies down again. God, she wants to take her apart. 

She starts by putting her hands over Harry’s tits, the dark nipples hard against the palms of her hands and she catches them between her thumbs and forefingers. She’s seen Harry undressed before, but never like this. Skin already a little damp with perspiration, her small tits rising with each shivery breath. 

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.” She leans down to take a nipple into her mouth, tonguing over it until Harry lets out a moan.

“Oh, oh yes,” is all she says as her fingers go into Louis’ hair, holding her close just like she did the other night, pressed up against the wall. 

After a little while, her want overwhelms her and Louis can’t wait to feel Harry’s mouth against hers any longer. Catching the wet nipple with her hand, she pushes herself up until her lips crash into Harry’s, their tongues instantly eagerly meeting. 

It was only last night that she had Harry like this, but this time it feels different. Even with how she’s starving to touch, wanting nothing more than to have  _ more _ , she feels even more eager to explore. Not scared that the moment will end too soon, but like they have all the time in the world to melt together. 

“Let me see you, please,” Harry breathes out and pulls at Louis’ shirt. 

Louis nods, pulling away and gently snapping the waistband of Harry’s trousers. 

“Take it all off.” Her voice sounds rough with want, but she doesn’t care, just gets up off the sofa to pull her shirt and bra off, quickly followed by her trousers, knickers and socks. She doesn’t have time to feel self conscious before Harry is pulling her back on top, now feeling skin against skin everywhere. 

“God, you talk about beautiful,” Harry says between kisses, her hands running down Louis’ back and settling over her bum, squeezing carefully. 

It feels so good to be pressed together like this, their breasts rubbing together, making Louis’ hips stutter against Harry’s. “What do you want, sweetheart?” Louis asks, feeling high and trying to make sure she doesn’t do anything unwanted. 

Harry kisses her, dirty and deep before she pulls away again. “I want you to come, like, I wanna make you come.”

Louis’ first reaction is that she doesn’t even know how to  _ do that _ . She’s never had anyone else bring her off before, so she’s just about to protest. To say that it’s all fine, but then Harry grabs hold of her thigh, hiking it up over Harry’s hip so she can reach down, and the moment Harry’s fingers slide against her already dripping cunt, she thinks Harry won’t have any trouble getting her off at all. 

That she might fall and crack wide open, just at the soft graze of her fingers. 

“Alright, just. Do whatever feels good, right?” She smiles a little, and then reaches down to touch Harry in return. To feel if she’s just as wanting as she was last night. 

They grab at each other, kiss each other and press together tightly. Harry’s thigh slipping in between Louis’ and Louis can’t help but to press her cunt against her. She’s so wet that she slides easily against the velvety skin and she bites her lip not to moan loudly.

Harry looks at her with something like awe in her eyes, hands reaching up to cup Louis’ breasts hanging down in front of her. So much bigger than Harry’s, impossible to ignore, and it doesn’t take long before Harry arches her neck, putting one of Louis’ nipples in her mouth. She starts sucking and Louis’ hips stutter against Harry’s thigh, cunt throbbing with the sensation. 

Louis tries to focus on where her fingers slide into Harry’s cunt. The tight wet grip around her fingers is simply addictive. She wants to drive her fingers deep inside, wants to fuck her into the sofa cushion so Harry forgets her own name, but she tries to remember the way she makes herself feel good. What gets her off as she’s thinking about soft brown curls and mole dotted shoulders. She curls her fingers along the upper wall of Harry’s cunt, searching for that spot that makes her see stars. 

The hot clench around her as she finds it, is the best reward she’s ever received along with Harry baring her throat with a long groan. “Yeah, right there, oh fuck.” 

When Harry starts pumping her hips against her hand, she sits up a little, wanting to be able to use both hands. Cunt pressed down on Harry’s thigh, she reaches her other hand down to brush against the deep brown curls over Harry’s slit. They’re glistening with wet and Louis’ mouth waters as she parts them further, wanting to see all of her so flushed and dripping. 

Harry reaches for her tits, hands eagerly feeling the weight of her before her fingers drag over her nipples. Louis can’t help the way her hips start moving, desperate for that pressure against her clit. 

With Harry split wide open and eager in front of her, she gets her thumb over Harry’s clit, trying to coordinate the movement of her fingers inside of her as she tries a bit of pressure with her thumb. 

Harry moans, her hands coming down to grab hold of Louis’ arse, hungrily pushing Louis’ cunt against her thigh, and Louis’ steady climb towards climax quickly hurls forward.

“Oh god, oh god, I’m gonna—” All of her is trembling, and as the orgasm takes hold of her she lets out a deep groan. 

She falls forward, her soft breasts pressing against Harry as she pushes against her face against Harry’s throat, breathing her in. When she feels like she can move again, she shuffles down between Harry’s legs, her orgasm somehow leaving her even more desperate for Harry. 

Her mouth floods at the thought of what she’s about to do, the idea of tasting the very core of Harry right on her tongue. Harry scrambles up on her elbows, looking down at her with wide hungry eyes as Louis uses two fingers to part the dark curls, before leaning down and getting her mouth on her. She knows Harry must be close, so she slides her tongue over Harry’s clit as she sucks. She tastes like the most delicious treat, and when she pushes to fingers back into Harry’s heat, curling her fingers just right, Harry’s body grows taut as she shouts out, hips lifting up from the sofa cushions. 

Then the string has snapped, and both of them fall back on the sofa. Louis resting her head on Harry’s thigh just for a moment to catch her breath. Harry’s fingers soon start to card through her sweat soaked hair.

“I swear to god, I didn’t say that just to make you do  _ that, _ ” Harry says then, like she can’t help on commenting on what they just did. 

Louis snorts softly and gives Harry’s thigh a kiss before she looks up at her, eyebrow raised. 

“Bet you didn’t mind though, did you?” She says like she’s got all the confidence in the world. 

Harry just grins and shakes her head, truly the most stunning woman being Louis has ever seen. 

\---

It’s after a week of lightheaded disbelief that Louis’ excitement starts turning sour. With every easy smile and every conversation they have that is  _ not  _ about this thing between them. As Harry curls up to her at night and kisses her good morning. With every moment that passes without things falling apart, Louis gets a little more anxious. Right now she has everything she’s ever wanted, but it’s all make belief. There’s nothing solid or sure, just a glimpse of what true happiness could look like, feel like, be like in the arms of the woman she loves. 

Everything comes to a point nine days after that first night. Nine days of Louis counting the seconds of her own happiness, and she comes out of the laundry room only to hear Harry on the phone in the kitchen. 

She’s just about to make her way up the stairs with the basket of fresh laundry perched on her hip when she catches a few words and her steps falter. Heart racing in her chest, she slowly walks up to the kitchen doorway, staying just out of sight as Harry goes on.

“I know sweetheart, but it’s not as easy as… no, of course you have the right to be upset, but I’m… what is that supposed to mean?” Harry raises her voice and Louis can’t make herself move. “I like it here, Louis’ been really great to me… you’re not even living at home anymore?! What does it matter if I’m in the house or…” 

Louis’ eyes well up and her throat grows tight. Harry is obviously talking to one of her kids, and it’s exactly the kind of reality check Louis’ been waiting for. Someone outside of their bubble, disrupting the fantasy they’ve created for themselves. Louis quickly makes her way up the stairs and into the bedroom.

She pours the laundry onto the bed and starts folding it up into neat piles, trying to ignore the way her hands shake and the tremble of her bottom lip. She knew this would end sooner or later, knew that all it would take is someone from Harry’s old life to come looking. Asking why Harry isn’t with her own family through these hard times, why she’s escaped to Louis’ spinster household. 

With each pair of underwear folded and put into the drawers, her energy runs a little thinner. By the time she’s furiously pushed the last drawer shut, her shoulders sag and she makes her way over to the bed. As her head hits the pillow, she admits herself defeated and lets the tears fall into the freshly changed pillow case. 

She hates how dramatic she’s being, how her body reacts so violently to something she always knew to be true. How nothing has really changed, because Harry hasn’t been in love with Louis for the past twenty-five years. She hasn’t let love like that settle into her bones. Hasn’t grown used to the feeling of wanting something so badly there’s a constant dull ache running through her veins. To Harry this is all new and exciting. Transient. In passing. One phase before the one that comes after. 

Louis’ eyes fall shut and she sighs heavily, hands clutched tightly to her chest. 

\---

“Love, are you sleeping?” Harry’s gentle voice carries through the fog of a dream and Louis feels the bed dip in front of her. When she opens her eyes, Harry is lying next to her on the bed, a soft smile on those lovely lips and Louis is so tired. She tries to give Harry a smile in return anyways. 

“Is something wrong?” A hand comes up the caress Louis’ cheek, a thumb swiping along her cheekbone. 

Louis shakes her head, wanting Harry’s hand gone from where her cheek heats with shame. She wants so desperately to shut down the emotions raving in her like an unruly teenager. 

“Just tired,” she says and her voice comes out scratchy. 

Harry frowns, lines of worry framing her eyes and Louis looks away, trying to blink the sleep out of her eyes. She should really try to get away, get out of bed and move on with the day, but her limbs feel like they’re laced with lead. Like she couldn’t move out from underneath Harry’s attentive eyes even if she tried. 

“Did something happen? You never take naps,” Harry shuffles even closer to her, as if sharing breaths is necessary for this conversation. Louis’ nose fills with the scent of Harry’s bubblegum, and her eyes burn all over again. “Louis? You’re worrying me, please talk to me.” 

Harry wraps her arm over Louis’ waist and pulls herself closer, placing a kiss at Louis’ temple that is so sweet Louis can’t help a few tears from falling. 

Suddenly desperate for the comfort of Harry’s touch, Louis presses her face into Harry’s neck, breathing in the scent of her skin and shutting her eyes tightly. She’s so stupid for ruining this before it’s absolutely inevitable, but she knows she can’t keep her feelings bottled up for a second longer. 

Twenty-five years is a long time to fall in love with someone, to learn all the ways a person can fit into one's heart. It’s also an awful long time to lie to one of the most important people in your life. 

“I heard you on the phone, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” she chokes out, trying to sound as calm as possible. As Harry pulls back to look at her, worry dancing in her eyes, Louis realises just how badly she’s failed at that too.

“On the phone with Marina?” she asks, confused. Louis’ fingers find the fabric of Harry’s shirt and curl up tight. 

She nods. “Yeah, and it just…” She lets out a deep breath, ears whooshing and thoughts all jumbled up. “It made me think about when this is all over. And I know it’s stupid, because being with you like this is truly…” It feels impossible to keep eye contact with Harry as she’s glinting the door to all her well kept secrets. As the daunting reality of what she’s about to do hits her.

She forces herself to go on. “It’s truly so wonderful, but I keep thinking about when you find your own place, when you move on with your life and I’m stuck here, just like I was before.” 

Harry keeps frowning, looking at her for long seconds. “What does that mean, ‘stuck’?” 

“It means I’ll be stuck here as you move on and it’ll be just like before, only now I know what it feels like to have you in my arms and I’m… just the thought of it completely breaks me.”

She’s never felt so torn apart before, like an open wound waiting for the next stab. Even now she can’t help the way her heart clenches at the sight before her. Harry’s wide green eyes and pursed mouth.

“What, exactly, do you think is going on here?” Harry asks carefully, every word coming out slower than the last one. “Cause I’m not following at all.” 

Louis swallows and tries to be bold enough, brave enough, to let her heart bleed just a little longer. “You’re… you’re going through… I know what you’re going through, love, I’ve been there myself and it’s… it’s great, but it’s not… it’s not reality. Eventually you’ll want stability, to settle down, not… experiment or, I mean…” That’s as far as her nerves gets her. She has no idea how to put words to her thoughts, to make Harry understand how hopeless the situation is.

Harry looks offended. “ _ Experiment _ ? Is that what you think this is?” 

Louis doesn’t know what to do but just look at her, feeling so completely lost. “I don’t mean that it’s a bad thing…”

Something hard flashes in Harry’s eyes and her neck grows splotchy red. “Well, it sounds pretty horrible to me.”

“Love, you just, you don’t understand. What I’m trying to say isn’t that you’re doing anything wrong, just that you don’t have the full picture.”

“So tell me!” Harry looks like she’s on the verge of crying and Louis breaks just a little more.

Just one more time and then it’ll all be over. She just needs to get the next few words out and that will be it. 

“One of the reasons why me and Danny got divorced was because he… because I realised I’m gay and that I’m— that I’m in love with my best friend. So you see this isn’t just… this is everything to me. You’re everything.” 

Harry just stares at her at first, eyes wide and glassy, then the tears finally fall and she cradles Louis’ head in her hands, hands trembling.

“Oh darling, I’m…” Harry’s eyes fly back and forth, trying to read something in Louis’ eyes. “I might not know what I’m doing. I… I might be lost and searching, but all I know is that my favourite person in the world just said she’s in love with me, and I… who bloody knows what happens next, but if you asked me right now where I want to be for the rest of my life, it’s right here. With you.”

Time stands still in that moment, no sound, no sense. Louis just stares. Her breaths feel like thin flutters against her dry lips, her voice lost. 

The red spots of colour travel up Harry’s throat to cover her cheeks, to make her bitten lips flush dark red. “Please say something.” Louis has never heard a plea whispered so softly before.

“I don’t know what to—” 

“Please don’t be angry with me, I… I know I’m clueless, I know I’m not— please, just give me a chance. I really don’t want to lose this.”

“A chance?” Louis can barely hear her own voice it’s so thin. 

“I think we could make each other happy.”

Happy. So wild and impossible, and yet it seems like it’s trying to stop her from bleeding out. 

“Kiss me,” is all she manages before letting herself fall into the arms of the woman she loves. 

\---

\---

\---

They’re still cuddled up on the sofa when the last family have left, neither of them barely having gotten up in the past few hours. To have their family go get them some more sparkling wine and crisps, made them both chuckle with delight and it’s hard to move when you’re so filled with birthday cake and love.

“Seventy-five, though,” Harry says, drawing circles with her thumb over the crepey skin on the back of Louis’ hand. “Sounds quite old, doesn’t it?” 

She scrunches her nose in that way that she  _ knows  _ Louis’ finds utterly adorable and Louis gives her a small nudge with her elbow. “Speak for yourself, darling, I don’t feel a day over twenty-five.”

“Oh god, please no, who’d have the energy for that?” Harry asks and makes a face. 

Louis chuckles and leans over to give her wife a kiss. 

It still hits her sometimes, just how unbelievable it is that she gets to kiss those lips. Even now after thirty years together, it feels like a dream. 

After thirty years, she also shouldn’t be surprised by the way Harry doesn’t let her go when she tries to pull back, but leans in further, the press of her lips curling into a smile. 

Louis smiles too, one hand resting against Harry’s cheek and the other curling over her hip.

“I think you’d keep up with me just fine at any age, my love.”

Harry grabs the hand at her cheek and places a kiss in the palm of it. “I think you’re right, and I’ll keep at it until you’re at least a hundred and five.”

“I better get started on that cardio then,” Louis laughs and leans in for another kiss. 

Just because she can.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please leave kudos and a comment if you liked it ❤
> 
> You can also find me on [tumblr.](http://gaycousinlarry.tumblr.com/)
> 
> And here's a tumblr post if you want to [reblog.](https://gaycousinlarry.tumblr.com/post/189313906178/read-here-on-ao3-written-by-momentofclarity-main) Thank you!


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